Reverence
by Ruka Jaganshi
Summary: Loki-returns-after-A4 scribble, from a train ride of heat and boredom, inspired by a nameless fanart.


It was the cheesiest scene there could have been; Loki considered just turning around and showing up at another time. But the sight was also pitiful enough to make him want to stop it as soon as possible, to avoid the humiliation of having such a wussy brother. Namely he had just returned from his latest faked death to find the big man of the day far away from the crowd, kneeling in front of a lousily made wooden cross, with his back to the celebratory bustling on the horizon, his shoulders sunken, and quietly weeping to himself. Loki, with a hand on his hip, brooded over a snappy entrance line while he was looking at his brother shake his head, and at the scarred hands grab onto the powdery earth in helplessness. Thor was saying something softly, but the tears drowned out the words that his lips barely even formed.

He stopped speaking at the sound of steps behind him, his hands let go of the dirt and came up to rest on his knees, but he was unable to regulate his breathing. Or he didn't care to. From the way he kept his loose posture, Loki could tell his guard was down for anyone to attack. He was at his weakest point. He was so vulnerable. He was being pathetic.

A depraving smile tugged on the sorcerer's lips as he stepped towards his opportunity to overthrow the god of thunder and claim Asgard for himself. All it took was a knife to slice his throat, and he would let it happen without a second thought. But even if Loki would spare his life and only weaken him with a stab into a vital organ through the back, he wouldn't care to defend. Perhaps the pain could teach him not to let people sneak up on him next time. Or he might not even notice it, tattered as his body was after the final battle. Loki just realised that the thunder god had skipped medical aid.

Wordlessly, the sorcerer knelt down behind him, still toying with the thought of teaching him to take better care of himself; but for now, he only reached out and covered the man's eyes with both hands. Thor didn't stir, nor did he ask or reprove.

"I'm fine," he only breathed faintly. "Celebrating."

The bitterness in his voice. Suddenly, Loki found himself afraid of speaking up and revealing his identity. He held his palms in place, for the first time in his life unable to think of the next step. He wasn't even sure any more whether Thor was crying for him or someone else Loki couldn't think of right now.

His hands held on tighter when the thunder god moved his head to shake them off. He bit his lips and bent closer to brace his arms against a possible assault to guide them out of the way. When Thor grabbed his wrists, Loki's forehead met the back of his neck to keep in place; all the while holding his breath to avoid making a sound. If he could have, he'd have been running away from here now at the speed of the wind.

Thor seemed to understand the visitor's need to stay like that, because he stopped pulling on the wrists, though his heavy palm was still holding them, with the remainders of the powdery earth in-between.

"I couldn't be there among them," said the thunder-god. _"My_ world didn't get saved."

It might have been just a note, or an apology.

"Everyone was back, but I've stayed completely alone, there was no one to hug in joy," he continued. "So I came here."

Loki's abhorrence from stirring and revealing himself grew with every sentence.

"I thought that here I could feel like being… together. But as it occurs, no one was here all along. I was shedding tears alone."

Now the sorcerer was considering whose appearance to take up before saying something semi-comforting and leaving. But again, the magic flowing through his body could be felt on the skin, and Thor would notice it without doubt.

"I'm sorry."

The dark eyebrows furrowed at that. He really disliked his brother showing weakness like this; it was unfit for him.

"I'm sorry for not believing in you. I was foolish, should have learnt by now."

Though Loki needed to swallow and shut his eyes tight to hold back the lump in his throat, he waited out the next steps: you could never be sure what the thunder god was talking about.

The next step still caught him off-guard. Thor pulled the wrists forward, effortlessly but as strongly as he was, jerking the unsuspecting body tightly to his back, and guiding the arms to cross over collarbone.

"A hug, as promised," he said. "I hope it'll make you forgive me this once."

Loki, who was well aware now that this wretched state of the thunder god was the result of his very own mischief as always, sighed and benevolently forgave him.


End file.
